


Peaceful

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, D/s, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody was good today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peaceful

**Author's Note:**

> Another art inspired fic, done to this piece by robo-hunter-chaim: http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/140012438898/robo-hunter-chaim-perceptor-x-quark-x
> 
> Oh, hey, did you know I take commissions? http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/133757203223/commission-info

Everybody was good today.

That was why Quark and Brainstorm were on their knees, the latter wearing a collar with a leash attached. Sitting before them, and holding the end of that leash coiled loosely around his knuckles was Perceptor, looking over his two partners with that cool, intimidating gaze.

Not in a million years did Quark think he’d end up in a relationship like this. And he’d lived well over a million years. It’d been daunting at first, and many times he was hesitant–-but after countless sessions, plenty of reassurances and support, Quark found himself adjusting quickly and happily.

It was… calming, actually, in a way he wasn’t quite sure how to describe. Someone having so much control over him frightened Quark at first, until he realized the power balance was equal. Nothing could be done or said to him without his permission first.

Quark was only expected to give what he wanted, and take only what he could handle. It was less surrendering than it was… peaceful. Anchoring. The war was over, but this universe ran on chaos. In here, with his partners, everything was controlled and regulated. There were rules and boundaries and, above all, respect.

Maybe that explained it. Or maybe it was something much more simple, much more base. Either way-–everybody was good today. And when you were good, you were rewarded.

It seemed rather odd when your reward had you collared and leashed, but for Brainstorm, that worked. Quark glanced at him quickly; Brainstorm was smiling mischievously, so excited for what happened next. These games were more natural to him, and that made it easier for Quark to follow.

Perceptor sat back in his chair, relaxing–though he always looked on guard and alert. “No hands,” he stated firmly, his panel retracting, “use only your tongues.” His unit pressurized, and Brainstorm repressed the need to giggle. Either from excitement or immaturity or maybe a mix of both, he was always testing the waters. Quark wondered if he’d try anything in this session, or play along like a good boy.

“Yes, sir,” the two replied nonetheless, in perfect unison.

Perceptor nodded. He raised a hand, gesturing them over. “Come.”

Quark and Brainstorm crawled over. They sat side by side between Perceptor’s spread legs, and keeping their hands firmly planted on the ground, leaned in. Brainstorm was all too eager, running his tongue in a heavy line from the base of Perceptor’s unit to the head.

Perceptor’s engine sighed, but otherwise he remained composed and watching vigilantly.

Quark gently pressed his tongue to the head of the unit, rather focusing on lathering up one spot in smooth, wet circles. Brainstorm continued dragging his tongue up and down in those heavy strokes. Tilting his head, Quark worked his way down. The two occasionally moved in tandem; matching tongue strokes before breaking off, one servicing the top, the other the bottom, before drawing up and meeting in the middle.

Brainstorm would sometimes press his tongue quickly against Quark’s, almost kissing him at times. It wasn’t allowed, but Quark expected this sort of risky behavior. And so did Perceptor; he yanked on the leash, and the collar would tighten, focusing Brainstorm again.

Every few minutes, Quark would chance a look up at Perceptor, see how he was reacting. While his serious expression and stature hadn’t changed much, it was the minute twitch of his lips or slight flash in his optic that gave him away. He was enjoying this–a lot. Quark tried not to smile, feeling very proud of himself, and went back to dragging his tongue back and forth over the head’s slit.

Not long after, Perceptor raised his hand, and the two immediately sat back. Quark wanted to wipe the bead of coolant from his mouth, but kept his hands on the ground. He liked where this was going so far–no need to ruin it with some novice mistake.

Perceptor grumbled lowly as the rest of his paneling opened. His channel was flared, lubricant finally seeping free. Both Quark and Brainstorm shivered at the sight.

“Brainstorm,” Perceptor said, “attend to my channel. Quark.” He pat his knee. “Up.”

Quark rose, almost too quickly. His head spun, a tightness in his groin. Brainstorm smirked–a silent “go get ‘em, sport.”

“Let me see,” Perceptor ordered, reaching a hand between Quark’s legs.

Quark invented sharply. He opened his panels, and Perceptor leaned forward. His fingers inquisitively stroked wet folds, gently probing without going too deep. Quark swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from Perceptor’s unit.

After assessing, Perceptor sat back and pointed between Brainstorm and Quark. “Brainstorm, attend to Quark first,” he stated.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Brainstorm snickered. Again playing on the edge without quite going over the line. Perceptor pulled on the leash, and Brainstorm stood as well. He swept up to Quark, purring. “Always a pleasure.”

Perceptor watched, silent and patient, as Brainstorm gently pressed one finger inside Quark’s channel. Quark clamped up, but quickly relaxed; he held onto Brainstorm as the finger started moving. Nothing fast, very gentle, and his channel walls fluttered around the intrusion. Once slack enough, Brainstorm inserted a second finger, and started scissoring the digits open and closed.

Quark vented, optics bright. He melted into the hand, hips twitching; his fingers dug into Brainstorm’s arms, one finding a seam and slipping inside. Brainstorm hiccuped, and Quark almost laughed–he knew that’d happen. But just as the focus had been on pleasuring Perceptor earlier, right now it was all on Quark.

Quark refrained from anymore groping and teasing, allowing himself to be prepared in a way that was both wonderful yet clinical.

Brainstorm suddenly removed his fingers, turning to Perceptor. “I think he’s ready, sir,” he insisted.

Perceptor nodded and tugged on the leash. Brainstorm got back on his knees, expression smug. Once more, Perceptor pulled Quark over and gently stroked his folds and the inside of his channel. Nothing personal; just to see if he was ready and open enough.

“Here,” Perceptor said, guiding Quark over. Quark climbed up onto his lap, hands braced on Perceptor’s shoulders. He looked down, readying and positioning himself. “Sit still,” Perceptor ordered Brainstorm, who rocked on the ground a little anxiously.

Hands on Quark’s hips, Perceptor lowered him down on his unit. Quark winced, pausing a moment as he took the head first. His channel walls clenched as he sunk another inch. Perceptor turned his head, gently hushing him in a soothing voice. His lips were soft on Quark’s cheek, and that tightness slowly left his body.

“Easy,” Perceptor murmured, free hand resting on Quark’s lower back. He stroked the small of his back, and Quark pushed down, taking just another inch before finally settling. Inventing, Quark rose; the thrusts were shallow and slow, but Perceptor didn’t rush him or complain. The hand on his back continued petting, helping him along.

Quark huffed, glasses tilted. “S-Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Perceptor growled. It didn’t scare or upset Quark, however. There was still a softness in his blunt, cold voice. “You know what to do.”

Just say the safeword, it’d be over with. Quark shook his head. “No,” he said. They’d only just started, and it wasn’t as if he were in any pain. Just… a little embarrassed at his earlier faltering. To prove his desire to continue, Quark started pumping the unit in his channel with faster strokes. He took another inch, and felt the head brush against deep-seated nodes. Quark almost gasped, hips snapping; he about slammed down, suddenly needing more of the unit inside him, but the hand on his back kept him from rushing.

And just like that, Quark was lost in the sensations. He clutched Perceptor’s shoulders tightly, open-mouth venting as he slid nearly completely down the shaft before rising again.

Perceptor looked to Brainstorm. He was smiling up at Quark, proud and blissful. Just watching his partners get off made his spark race. “Brainstorm,” Perceptor said, optic narrowed.

“Yes, sir,” Brainstorm hummed, that crooked grin still on his face. Perceptor pulled him over on the leash, and minding Quark moving above him, Brainstorm sunk down and started licking the folds of Perceptor’s channel, cleaning away lines of lubricant.

Quark started riding the unit with all that he had, biting into his bottom lip. “P-Primus,” he whimpered, coolant dribbling down his chin.

Perceptor lifted his hand, taking Quark by the chin and turning his head. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead forced Quark to open his mouth a little wider so he could lean forward and kiss him, tongue plunging inside. Quark moaned against his lips, optics closing slowly; he nuzzled against Perceptor’s face, the latter’s nose tilting his glasses again.

Brainstorm was kneading his tongue against Perceptor’s ceiling node, focused, when he felt fingers brush along his jawline. He turned his head instantly, cuddling against Perceptor’s palm, feeling the leather of the leash wound around his hand. Perceptor stroked his face a moment before sliding his thumb into Brainstorm’s mouth. The flier responded by suckling on it earnestly, happily, fingers delicately petting throat cables to encourage him.

Perceptor was the first to overload, followed by Quark a few minutes later. Brainstorm sat back, wiping transfluid from his face. He beamed as Quark was lowered helpfully into his lap, arms closing around him, mouth catching him in a kiss. With Perceptor’s permission, Brainstorm freed his unit; the smaller bot took it in his hand, pumping it at a speed he knew made Brainstorm wriggle and whine.

When Brainstorm finally climaxed, the three sat back, recollecting themselves. Perceptor stood a few minutes later, coaxing the two to rise with him. Quark leaned against Brainstorm for support, legs still a bit weak. After removing Brainstorm’s collar, Perceptor took them each by a hand, squeezed them once, then let go.

“Washracks first, then clean up,” Perceptor grunted. “You’ve both made such a mess.”


End file.
